45: Midnight Secrets

WRITER’S POV

Her grip on him was surprisingly firm. Her eyes bore into his, and her voice carried an urgency that made him pause.

“Will you be at the village festival tonight?” she asked, her fingers still gripping his wrist.

Max blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "Yes," he replied cautiously, "It’s an annual tradition. How about you?" He inquired, his eyes moving to settle on her injured leg.

Her gaze dropped to her injured legs, wrapped in makeshift bandages. “I had planned to attend,” she confessed, “but now, I fear I won’t manage.”

“Rest is wise,” Max advised. “You should stay home and take care of your leg and stepmother.”

Her nod held both gratitude and something deeper—an unspoken plea. As he turned away, she tightened her grip on his wrist, her fingers cool against his skin as his pulse quickened.

“Then I must warn you,” she said. “Listen carefully. You must leave before midnight strikes. If you and your brother want to survive, heed my warning.”

Max furrowed his bro